


Negotiating Love

by jyuanka



Category: Berserk
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 05:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656261
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jyuanka/pseuds/jyuanka
Summary: Serpico feared nothingness, feared his own irrelevance, feared in being left with nothing to do, no identity. He understood himself in relation to her, but now when he glanced ahead, Farnese was not that little scared girl waiting for him to drape a coat over her shoulders; she was a transformed woman, and now stood so far ahead of him that he could hardly make out her figure amongst their new companions.





	Negotiating Love

**Author's Note:**

> My first Berserk fic is dedicated to @laughing-bats at tumblr, for giving me enough motivation to get off my ass (and off tumblr) and edit this piece.

Serpico lurked behind a tree, and watched as the stilted and awkward conversation went between Farnese and Guts. She was fumbling with her hands, bowing her head and rising it, shifting the weight on her feet, all the while Guts stood as sturdy as ever, albeit Serpico could observe the man’s relaxed shoulders, and maybe even a hint of vulnerability about him.

They were talking about Casca, and both appeared truly worried and concerned, exchanging whatever information they had on her current situation, letting each other on the little details of taking care of the cured woman. Casca connected Farnese and Guts, shortened the distance between them, warming them to each other, and Serpico hoped that whatever feelings his Lady harbored for this man, now was the time for her to face them head on. This woman, this Casca was back, supposedly to her true self, and while Serpico knew next to nothing about her particular past with Guts, it was easy to discern that this woman meant a lot to him, most likely she was a former lover or comrade, or both. This meant that Farnese now had little chance of ever developing a genuine romantic relationship with Guts, built on reciprocated love.

He watched them behind blond locks, and took a breath. Their conversation was over, Guts was returning to the inn, and Farnese was heading back to where she came from. Serpico followed closely, obscuring himself from her until they were sufficiently far away from the inn, but to his surprise, Farnese wasn’t heading back to the party, but taking another route.

The two walked slowly, but on different sides of the tall trees shooting from the ground. Serpico wondered if Farnese knew where she was going, because Serpico himself couldn’t recognize the place; everything in the forest looked the same, and he was glad for his own uncontrollable urges to snoop and lurk; he can always make sure his Lady was in no danger, though he suspected Elfhelm was a place devoid of any dangers. Still, his instincts always told him to watch over her and be there just in case something happens.

Finally, after a bit of strolling, Farnese stopped at a small clearing that appeared man-made (or elf-made), a grassy, circular field, hemmed by large trees, and sporting a large water pond at its center. He watched as Farnese entered the scenery, almost disappearing into it, raising her head to the sky, and letting her figure soak in the bright moonlight. She slowly took off her coat, folded it, and lay it on the grass. Serpico observed as she sauntered towards the pond, rolling up her sleeves and dipping her fingertips in the water, running them over its surface.

A lull of her head, and quick jolt of her arm told him she knew of his presence. Serpico stepped out of the shadows, but kept a distance between them.

“Lady Farnese,”

“Serpico.”

Her voice was calm, resigned, almost melancholic, and it tugged at his heart, so he took a closer step, but still reserved a respectable gap between them. She did not indicate whether she wished him closer or not. She gave him no sign that she desired his company. Perhaps she only let him know of his presence to shoo him away, and Serpico wouldn’t blame her; it appeared that he was a voyeur into her own space, a creepy shadow watching her loneliness unfold before a surface of water.

It seemed like ages had passed, entire histories had melted before one of them spoke. It was Farnese. Of course it was Farnese, she was always the one to break the silence, always the one to speak first.

“It’s very nice in here,” she said, slightly above a whisper. “Elfhelm, I mean.”

“It is.” Serpico replied, walking towards her coat to pick it up from the grass and drape it over his arm, but he stopped short of standing next to her.

“People like us, we’re not used to places like this.” Farnese said, taking her arm out of the water and letting droplets of it fall to her palm. “The places we come from are ugly, so when we find a place devoid of ugliness, it shakes us, no?” she turned to him, letting a weak smile crawl over her pale face.

“I suppose,”

“I fear that such rotten plant like myself will always poison the soil it plants itself in.” She turned her head back to the water. “Beauty scares me; I feel that, at best, I don’t belong to it, and at worst, I tarnish it. The best I can do is to distance myself, but it hurts.” She clutched at her chest. “I want to be part of it, part of that beauty, but it hurts, because I can’t.”

Serpico did not know what to say, he did not know what to tell her, how to solace her, so he took the final step, but instead of standing like he had always done, he sat next to her, coddling her coat between his arms. Farnese looked at him and her expression broke into a fearful grimace. “Serpico, I have such rotten emotions in my heart, such sinister feelings, and I’m afraid, afraid that I will lose everything, and my heart is telling me to fight for what I want, but what I want is not a good thing, Serpico, it’s not a good thing.” Her big eyes filled with tears. “Tell me what do I do?”

Serpico inhaled, and felt that his insides had turned into rock. Her sadness caused him heartache. She did not need to elaborate on any detail, because he already understood the situation. She did not need to tell him that it’s about Guts and Casca and herself, because she was certain he knew, even when they exchanged no words ever about her feelings for the man.

“You endure, Lady Farnese.” He told her. “You steel your heart, and rationalize your fears. You decide the good course of action, the one that will end with the least harm done to all parties involved.”

_The least harm done to **you**._

However, he didn’t say that. She wouldn’t have liked that. The Farnese of now wouldn’t like Serpico’s selfish desire to keep her safe at all costs, regardless of the harm done to others. Yet there was another thing she needed to know. Another important fact she needed to come to terms with, and Serpico felt that he would be putting her in even more misery if he did not say what it was.

“Lady Farnese, I hope you’ll forgive me for saying this,” he stared at her, and the intensity of his gaze forced her to stare back, forced her to stop quivering. She saw seriousness in his grey, cold stare, but she also saw protectiveness, and care. “But I believe that you have forfeited your right to Mr. Guts’ heart once you took part in healing his lover.”

Farnese widened her eyes in shock, but Serpico wasn’t finished, he had to deliver all that has piled up in his heart before he coward and decided to let his Lady suffer in her unrequited, impossible love. “Now that Ms. Casca is back to her true self, I assume those two will at least try to piece back their relationship, and I cannot even begin to fathom how difficult that will be. All that we can do to them is be of help, and lessen the emotional load.”

_And that includes yourself._

Farnese gripped his sleeve and fumbled the fabric between her shaking fingers. “Did he tell you… his lover, Casca, did he tell you?”

“No.”

She saw truth in his eyes. She let go.

“I’m afraid you’re in denial, Lady Farnese.” Serpico continued to speak, even when he felt that every word was like spitting mud, that every word was deepening the scar in her heart. “Mr. Guts has his heart firmly in the hands of Ms. Casca, and no matter how flimsy and weak her hands were, this did not seem to change. Now that she is back to her true nature, I can only assume whatever conspired between them in the past will only resume.”

Farnese was speechless. She was stunned. She was staring at him with a mouth wide open and unbelief clouding her teary eyes. He wondered if she was in shock over his words or the mere fact that he even said them. He was never this honest with her. He had always left her most important questions unanswered. He had always left her alone in her wonderings and contemplations, never stepping out of his role as her loyal servant, and while Serpico still pretty much acted like her page, he understood very well that their dynamic has changed, and that he was, for better or worse, no longer her servant.

He understood that both of them were pretending, because their past was not done with them yet, and it was much easier to pretend that nothing has changed, that their relationship was still the same, but they both knew it to be a lie. They have not negotiated the terms of this new companionship that has arisen from the ashes, they have left everything unspoken, letting the water run its course, but Serpico feared that this same water will wash them away with it. Will wash _him_ away with it.

“You are in pain now, and the only way to move forward is to acknowledge what cannot happen and be content with reality.” Serpico glanced at her, and despite every fiber of his being telling him to refrain, he placed a hand on her shoulder. She winced. “I only say what I say, Lady Farnese, to prevent inevitable heartbreak.”

She snorted. He recognized it as a hostile gesture, and quickly removed his hand.

Farnese raised her head, and stared at him with stony eyes. “Is that why you rejected me, back then?” she wiped her tear stained face. “You rejected me to prevent inevitable heartbreak?”

His heart fell, but he nonetheless managed the words out without faltering. “I believe this is not relevant to the matter at hand.”

“How?” she shrieked. “How is not relevant? I loved you!” her own words seemed to frighten her. She stared at him, her lips quivering, hands shaking, chest heaving.

Serpico could sense his heart dimming. What she said hurt. She was not supposed to say it. Things like these only end up in ruin.

“Lady Farnese, I fear your judgment of your own emotions is incorrect.” He said, willing the heaviness in his chest with a big exhale. He failed. “I don’t blame you, it’s been a long time.”

Farnese heaved with anger. “My judgment? Of my own emotions?”

“Yes. You were lonely and desperate, you did not make good judgment, and thus you rationalized your actions by believing that you loved me.”

Farnese snorted again, and Serpico was reminded of how long it’s been since she displayed any outwardly unpleasant emotions. “I feel, Serpico, that you’re the one rationalizing here. For yourself.” She held his face in her hand. “Does it scare you? To know that I loved you once? That I was in love with you?” she spat those questions at him, she held his face, her fingers firm, her gesture reeking of frustration, and she was forcing him to acknowledge her, to acknowledge the concrete, undisputable nature of her past and present emotions.

Serpico was terrified, but he did not dare look away from the mess before him, did not want to, no matter how much he needed it. The mess before him was his own reflection, it was the closest thing he’d ever had to a real, physical reason for his own existence. To look away was to perish.

He couldn’t speak, and didn’t want to speak. Didn’t know what to answer her questions with because he had hoped, wished, pleaded that Farnese will see everything in his silence, but Farnese was not the kind of person who derives her comfort and answers from silence. In fact, she needed things to be straightforward and honest to the bare bone, and Serpico could not give her that.

He stared at her, at her tears, at her pain, at how bare she was before him, and wished she knew that everything he has ever done was for her. Everything. Did she know? Did she know that? Did she know that not acknowledging her love for him in the past was important, for her? For her own wellbeing?

Of course he rationalized things. Of course he rationalized both their emotions because it was easier that way. It was easier to blame everything on loneliness and despair and pain, on societal norms and the rigid rules of hierarchy, it was easier than acknowledging the fickle, paper-thin mask he wore. It was easier than letting her in into his own darkness. It was for her own good, after all.

When Farnese heard no answer, and realized he was not going to talk, she let go of him. “I know that the person I have become is not someone you’re used to, but I was hoping that you, of all people, should understand.” Serpico’s face remained downcast, obscured by his hair, his arms still clutched to his Lady’s warm coat. “I know that now I’m no longer needed as before, and that perhaps I have lost my main duty within the group, but I still want to contribute, and I still want to be of use. This is most important to me.” She stood up. “Serpico, if you wish, you can always leave. I don’t want you to be here just because of me.” and walked away. No words, no orders, no pleading, she just left.

Serpico gritted his teeth, and watched his poise fall apart in the water.

III

Farnese walked back to the camp, trembling with anger, with fear, with desperation. Her movements were slow and sluggish, and her body waifed through the trees and bushes until she reached the camp. They were still partying. Farnese chanced a glance at Roderick, who was raising a huge mug of wine to his lips, and nodding his head along with the music. He caught her eyes, and flashed her a bright smile, beckoning her to come and sit next to him beside the fire.

He took her hand and planted a gentle kiss on her knuckles. “M’lady, are you not cold? I seem to recall you had your coat on you.”

“I seemed to have forgotten it at the inn when I visited Casca.” She remembered the garment held close to Serpico’s chest. “But the weather in this island is truly nice, so I didn’t feel any difference in temperature.”

Roderick laughed. “Indeed, it’s like perpetual spring in here.” Then his mouth contorted into a naughty smile and he leaned over her ear. “Say, I’ve been thinking, you and I, I don’t know, stay here on this island?”Farnese’s blush only emboldened him. “You can continue your apprenticeship as a witch, and perhaps the generous folks here can fit us with a cute house, one I can share with you, if you allow me.”

Farnese couldn’t help but smile. “But what about being an heir for the throne?” Roderick smirked. “Oh to hell with that.” he took her hand into his, and leaned his entire body closer to hers. “To be with a woman like you, in such a wondrous place, is more fulfilling, more thrilling than ruling over the largest and grandest of realms.”

Her heart beat faster at his physical closeness, at his warmth, and she could only tighten her grip around his hand. No one had ever said these things to her. A woman like her... just what kind of woman has Roderick constructed in his head? Farnese knew that whoever she was, it had little resemblance to the real thing, but for some reason, she felt comfort in the knowledge that Roderick was unaware of her ugly past, it made her feel like she was starting anew, like she _could_ start anew, fresh and untainted. It was tempting to give in to his playfulness, to his verve, and let herself be with this man.

Roderick broke into a chuckle. “I can teach you how to fish, and maybe…” his dark eyes traveled to her mouth, and back to her eyes. “Maybe we can find other, impressive uses for your magic.”

Farnese swallowed, and despite herself, she found her eyes surveying his lips; they were big and bountiful, red and glistening from the wine, and they caused heat to travel down her abdomen. Did she desire this man? Physically? Did she want to experience his warm lips against hers, and his large hands on her body? The sinful tingling between her legs told her as much.

“Will you walk with me?” she whispered to him, face hot and heart rumbling. Roderick nodded and helped her up, and the two sauntered away from the rowdy camp, heading towards the deeper parts of the forest.

At one point, their fingers entwined. At one point, Farnese found herself against a tree, panting, eyes closed, and hands fearful but excited, searching for something to hold and clutch. She opened her eyes, and saw Roderick’s intense gaze fixed on her, and the man was about to say something but Farnese silenced him by locking their lips and holding his face in her hands. Roderick reciprocated her excitement by wrapping his strong arms around her, and sneaking a hand from her shoulders to her neck and head, releasing his fingers in her hair, and pulling them just slightly for Farnese to deepen the kiss.

She could feel his penis harden between her legs, and the friction against it was beyond anything she had ever imagined. It was delicious and she wanted more, pulling him against her, parting her legs so she could feel more of him, and she sighed in pleasure when Roderick was passionately taking all her cues, snaking his hands down her body to grab her ass and rub himself against her.

He struggled to break their kiss and look her in the eye. “You’re wild.” He murmured in her ear, lustful and out of breath. Farnese replied with a soft groan, and was about to resume the kiss when Roderick stopped her. “Farnese, are you sure of this?” he asked her between heavy breaths. “A witch you are, but you are still a daughter of the Vandimion, won’t taking such an action hurt your standing within your society?”

She stared at him, her nails digging in the bare flesh of his neck. “I no longer care about such trivialities.”

The two stared at each other, stealing quick inhales and processing the heat in their faces and bodies. Roderick moved a hand up to her face and caressed her cheek, offering her a heartfelt, apologetic smile. “Perhaps we don’t have to wear our green gowns tonight.” He said, sliding his thumb over the crease of her lips. “I wish to wait for the day when we are husband and wife. I reckon it is better for us both.”

Farnese knew that his upbringing didn’t allow for him to a bed a woman out of wed-lock, neither did hers, for the matter. However, an important part of her journey to seek the truth involved questioning the mores and ethics of the society that bred her, and for a moment, she had imagined that Roderick had the same thoughts, but now she knew the truth. No matter how humble and adventurous and unlike royalty he acted, he was still a prince, and princes don’t have sex in a magical island with their fiancés.

Roderick, unlike her, still has duties waiting for him at home, still has standards to uphold and respect, he could not simply lay her in the grass and forget about the role given to him. The man was so sincere and so honest she had almost forgotten he wanted to marry him as a way to climb the social ladder. In the scheme this man cooked up with her brother, she was a pawn to be moved for a greater purpose, a purpose that had nothing to do with her happiness. She also remembered that she, too, had only agreed to marry him for a purpose that had nothing to do with him. They had both used each other, but Farnese recognized the contrast between her selfless deed and his selfish one, but that both saw the other as a tool to reach something else.

Farnese sighed, and dropped her arms from his shoulders. “Let us return to the camp then.”

Roderick shook his head. “We will, but I cannot possibly leave a lady like you in need.” His fingers slithered over her breast and down her stomach, but stopped at the hem of her trousers. “Let me, it is the least you deserve.”

She chocked her gasp, and blinked many times before nodding. Roderick leaned his head forward and took her lower lip between his teeth, reigniting the fire between her legs, while his hand slid past the hem of her trousers and undergarments. She could tell that his groan coincided with how wet he found her, but that part of her that ought to be ashamed was bouncing alone in the back of her mind. Farnese knew that she desired this, wanted this, hadn’t been touched by another in years, and Roderick was good to her, gentle with her, and his callous fingers against her clitoris were making her forget another image that flashed in her mind. Two, in fact; one was of the man who had already done something similar to her, and the other was of the man she has fantasized about doing something similar to her.

Serpico too, had once snaked a hand under her undergarments (upon her orders, of course), and pleasured her in such a mechanical, methodical way. They were both fully clothed, in her room, and dawn was looming after a long night; Farnese had repeated her order three times and threatened him before he complied with her desire. She threw herself on the bed, lifted her dress all by herself, and told him to put his fingers inside her, to move them up and down, and to draw circles around her clit because those were the most pleasurable. Serpico had executed her orders with the perfection only he could muster. He had done all of it while squatting on the bed in front of her open legs, sweating and breathing heavily, fully clothed, eyes slightly open and staring at her (because she ordered him to look at her), and with a focus he only reserved to the most important of tasks. When she came, she lost control of her bladder, and peed all over his hand.

They had only done it once and never again, and that one memory was the only one that stuck before vanishing under the burning bodies of the damned and the awful pleasure she derived from it. The memory of Serpico bringing her to completion was not something she wanted to pervade her senses while she was getting closer and closer to climax over Roderick’s hand.

The other image was of Guts, and it was entirely the product of her imagination. He would treat her gently, but then become rough because that was the way she liked it. She held on to this particular fantasy because she recognized it as a healthier alternative to burning objects and people and setting things on fire, and it was helping her move on and discover other aspects of her sexuality, the ones which were buried somewhere within her where she’d never bothered digging.

However, when she came, it was Serpico’s face that clouded her senses. It was his red cheeks she saw and labored breathing she heard, and it was his grey eyes she recalled, illuminated by the first rays of sunshine as it descended upon her room. Farnese exhaled, and let her body go limp in Roderick’s arms.

He handled her gently, planting a tender kiss on her temples, caressing her hair and back, and holding her closer to his body. He hooked a finger under her chin and offered her a broad smile. “ _Now_ we can go to camp, or would you prefer I take you to the inn?”

Farnese blinked in a daze and struggled to return his smile. “The inn.”

“C’mon, let me help you walk.” He offered her his arm, and she took it.

Just when she was about to lean on his shoulder, she caught sight of something, something familiar, an article of cloth that belonged to her, a coat that was draped neatly over a low hanging tree branch, a coat she had last seen held by someone who shouldn’t be here, who shouldn’t have seen her, not like this.

Her heart fell.

“Farnese, is everything alright?” Roderick asked, following the direction of her gaze. “Oh.” That was all he could say as they both stared at the hanging coat. Roderick chuckled. “It seems we were busted.”

He was taking it lightly, but Farnese’s insides were turning into stone; she felt a crushing heaviness, a mixture of shame and guilt and fear. She struggled to take a breath, and despite herself she was throwing random glances around, pleading with the Four Elementals for a head of fair blond hair to be nowhere around them.

Roderick sighed. “It’s Serpico, isn’t it?” he wasn’t waiting for her answer, he already knew. “Will this cause you trouble?”

Farnese frantically shook her head. “N-no, Serpico would never… I… I trust him.”

He nodded in approval. “I respect his tact and manners.” He looked at her with that warm expression he wore so effortlessly. “And I respect your opinion of him.” he moved to pick up the coat but Farnese’s arms reached out before him, and she looked like a crazed person protecting something from imminent theft.

“I-it’s alright, I’ll carry it myself.”

With this, the two walked to the inn, Roderick guiding her with a hand on the small of her back, and Farnese with her nose buried in the coat. She had to find him. Tonight.

III

He had hoped to apologize, to amend things, to tell her that he chooses to stay, to remain by her side no matter what, but the sight of her kissing Roderick, and seeing her disheveled hair and shaking legs sent his heart into disarray. He didn’t understand why, he was a rational and collected man, he was in control of his emotions, but something, something in the way he heard her moans but couldn’t completely see her face caused his façade to crash. Seeing her like that felt like a pile of rocks galloping towards him, threatening to bury him and tear him apart, so he did what he always did in the face of overwhelming emotions: he ran away.

Jealousy and envy were petty emotions, but he knew deep within him that it had little to do with envying Roderick and being jealous of him and more to do with pure, unadulterated panic that had a lot to do with how he viewed himself, and panic at the prospect of losing Farnese. Forever. Panic at his own fate, his weaknesses. What will happen to him? If Farnese no longer needed him, what was his job?

Serpico gritted his teeth.

What was his job? What was his purpose? Who was he? He had spent the majority of his life seeing and experiencing the world through this woman, he stood in her shadow, hidden and safe, serving, obeying, protecting, answering to none but her. He found validation in her existence; if there is no Farnese, there is no Serpico.

If she did not need him, and sought others instead of him, what was he to do? Serpico feared nothingness, feared his own irrelevance, feared in being left with nothing to do, no identity. He understood himself in relation to her, but now when he glanced ahead, Farnese was not that little scared girl waiting for him to drape a coat over her shoulders; she was a transformed woman, and now stood so far ahead of him that he could hardly make out her figure amongst their new companions.

Serpico buried his head in his hands, feeling like a helpless child all over again, but not the child rescued by Farnese from under the snow, the child who cared so little, and loved so little, and felt so little, no. He was no longer little servile Serpico, a boy hiding behind his mistress, a boy so unobtrusive and small one hardly noticed his presence, which suited him fine. Yes, anonymity suited him, benign and unthreatening, he was the perfect servant, the perfect bastard son, the perfect shadow, and that was good, for a while.

His first “divine” punishment came in the shape of his burning mother, was this his second? But why was seeing his mistress in the pleasure of a kiss a punishment? Why did it make him feel tiny and unimportant, like a discarded object? Did he begrudge Farnese’s secret little happiness? Was he such a fickle man? Was he not prepared?

He had already come to terms with the facts, Farnese’s engagement to one man and her love for another, and Serpico had thought that he already knew his place in this arrangement, but now he was not so sure. He was desperate, desperate to reassert his place within her heart, but she has never felt so out of reach, so unapproachable, so _unneeding_ of him.

He was terrified, not of a monster, not an apostle, not from evil spirit no, he was terrified of destroying his relationship with the only person he’d ever loved, with the only person who’d ever mattered, the only person who had seen him frail and bent and accepted him.

They were supposed to be broken together, they were supposed to remain broken together, but now Farnese was healing her wounds and stitching her scars, but without him. She was picking herself up, collecting the crumbs and tears, and he was far behind, still searching for the arm he grew to clutch into, but which was no longer there.

So what if Farnese gave her heart to a man and her body to another? His only hope was to preserve a corner for himself in her heart, no matter how small, no matter how cluttered and busy; he wanted a place, his place. He will be content with it, he will be content with it even if that space was only big enough for him to stand, he will cherish it, care for it, and he will sink his claws into it.

Since Farnese was sent to the convent, Serpico believed that if he cannot uncage Farnese from her unhappiness, he was going to share that unhappiness with her, but Farnese was no longer unhappy, not quite. She not only broke the lock holding the cage together, but she was brave enough to saunter out, hop away like a bird thirsting for flight, and left him behind, with the cage wide open for him, but Serpico was a bird with damaged wings, and that’s something he acknowledged. If he could not fly away with her, then all left for him was to rot away in the cage, but that was his excuse because he feared change.

Serpico did not want to rot away.

Back then, in the past, if not for Farnese, he would have rotted under the snow, but instead he decided to become the snow itself, yet becoming snow failed to freeze his heart, it only ignited it. Embracing the cold of the external caused him to crave internal warmth, and that warmth was only realized with Farnese. But even in her cruelest moments, she still provided him with that heat, the only thing guarding him from turning into a statue, the only thing that made him feel alive and needed.

To people outside of them, it always seemed like Farnese was the weaker party, the one in need of protection and validation, but he knew that was never the truth, he knew it even more than Farnese herself did. He was the weaker one, the clingier, with a heart so fragile it might as well be a ball of glass pieces glued together by his loyalty and affection for her.

When she suggested they run away together, his heart skipped with a thundering yes, but he knew better; all he could see upon her suggestion were disease and poverty, needless struggling and pain, and he refused to subject her to a fate similar to his childhood. Her wellbeing came before his desires; her wellbeing didn’t always lie in her wants.

Serpico, when seeing how the others, while surrounded by numerous, unnamed dangers were still able to make her laugh, helped her become a better person, picked her up and encouraged her, he thought that perhaps he was not so vital after all, perhaps he truly failed her in the aspects that mattered most. Despite how much he tried to shield her, he was only prolonging her unhappiness, tightening the lock on their cage, stopping her from realizing a better self, limiting her, and his brain was tormenting him of thoughts of his own selfishness and emotional cowardice, his fear that a different Farnese will mean his irrelevance to her, that there cannot be a different, better Farnese if he was her only bond.

Maybe he should retreat to the shadows, let her realize herself away from the shackles he represented, away from the shared burdens of their past. He will protect her still, always, that was unnegotiable, but he will remain at a distance so as not to rattle the chains binding them, he will continue the walk with her even when he is not able to keep pace, even when standing by her side hurts. Because, at the end of the day, all Serpico really wanted was to see her smiling, genuinely, because she is loved and trusted and cared for in all the ways that were denied to her by the world.

Farnese the mirror was cracking. Farnese the reflection was bending to the inside to reflect Farnese herself, not him. He had seen his loneliness in her, shared that loneliness, but Farnese acted out her silent despair and loneliness by loud outrage and the desire to be in control, while Serpico swallowed the pain and took comfort in knowing his place in the world.

Now, his place in the world was eroding, and the comfort he had in it was turning into a prickling ache.

III

“Master Schierke, have you seen Serpico?” Farnese swallowed, trying to calm herself down.

The little witch wiped her sleepy eyes and shook her head. “I thought he was with you.”

Farnese bit her lip. “Well, he was, for a while, but I can’t find him now.”

“Maybe he’s in his room?”

Farnese struggled not to lash out. Schierke might as well suggest all the places Farnese had already looked at. Not at the camp, not in the clearing, not in the inn, and she was silently freaking out. Had she done something irreversible? Had she lost Serpico? It was unlike him to disappear. The mere fact that he was not present was enough to distraught and confuse her, but even more so because their last conversation didn’t leave a good taste in her mouth.

“We can search for his Od!” it was Evalera who spoke, her dim pink glow illuminating half of Schierke’s face.

“Right!” Farnese sighed in relief. “But Elfhelm is huge, do you think you can trace him?”

Schierke gave her a tired smile, which made Farnese feel even guiltier. “You can help me, besides, I don’t think he’ll get far away, even with the wind cloak he must be near.”

“Maybe we should go to a higher place?” Farnese suggested. “It would make tracing his Od easier.”

Schierke nodded, and the two eventually decided to sit atop the cherry tree inn, and pool their magic in different directions. True to Schierke’s words, Serpico wasn’t too far, but he wasn’t too near, either.

“The Sea Horse!”

Farnese left her master and the elf behind, and darted down the inn and towards the shore, passing by trees and little homes and confused witches and wizards and stones engraved with magical totems. With teary eyes and a pounding heart, her legs carried her towards Serpico’s Od.

III

He sensed her presence before she even revealed herself. Was this ability of his seeping into her, too? But unlike him, Farnese didn’t wait for a sign or a gesture from him to approach. She stood at the ship’s entrance, hand resting on the tall wooden railings, the other clutching her coat, hair disheveled and panting. She could see him, sitting on the railings opposite her with his back towards the vast sea, bereft of his cloak.

“Serpico…”

“Lady Farnese.”

The moon was so large, so encompassing, that both were yet again reminded of their own insignificance, of how small they were, how confused and tired and lonely. The moon light sent a glow, which illuminated all the ugly places and vast holes separating them, all the dark places that have kept them so close yet so apart, but despite that, they couldn’t see each other fully or clearly.

Both were thinking that they have to accept what they had now, no matter how unsatisfying.

Farnese took a step forward, and then gathered up enough courage to walk towards the mast, but no farther. “Serpico I…”

“You owe me no explanation, Lady Farnese.”

She sighed. “At least I owe you an apology.”

Serpico did not move, he did not even look at her. “I’m the one who must apologize. I was awfully ill mannered and insensitive, and I stepped out of line. I must not have spoken the way I did.” He was going to add that she had the right to punish him however she saw fit, and maybe he really wanted to be punished, to be cleansed of his mistake, but he knew it couldn’t happen; they no longer had that kind of relationship.

Farnese swallowed, and forced her feet to make the stride towards him. Only then did he glance up and meet her gaze, and Farnese saw true pain in there, deep regret and shame, and it pricked her heart. When did he ever have this look in his eyes? When had he ever faced her with such visible ache? To her, most of the time, Serpico seemed like an animate object: useful, sturdy, unfeeling, but she was mistaken, she was always mistaken.

Was she the cause of his cold disposition? But hadn’t he always been like this? Was she the one who buried him within his own shadows even further? What had she done to this man? Was she his savior, his oppressor? His liberator or his imprisoner? What was she to him?

Once, she had asked him if he hated her, but got no answer in return, and now felt that she needed to know, more than anything else, if he’s ever going to answer this question. She didn’t want his apology, despite the hurt his words had caused her. She didn’t want him to feel sorry, or regret his words, because through them, Farnese had glimpsed something true, something authentic, an unmasked Serpico who at the very core, still felt loyalty to her.

But did she really want to know the true Serpico? If she helped open the cell caging his heart, would she hear more of his painful words? Would he tell her his true opinions of her? Would he tell her how much he hates her? Would this Serpico not be as convenient?

Farnese hated it, but deep down, she still felt ownership of this man. She still felt in need of a reliable figure to make the road a little less difficult, a little less scary, but now she had others to help her climb the rocks, and Serpico was far away. She was losing him, and she hated it.

She looked at him and wetted her lips. “Serpico… why don’t you have your cloak on you?”

A glimmer of his old self settled in his eyes, and she found it comforting. “I saw no need for it.”

“But it’s cold, you’ll get sick.”

Serpico sighed. “It’s alright, you needn’t worry about me.”

“But I do.”

Something passed between them, something subtle and vague, and neither could totally understand it, it was all new but deeply old, too, this feeling. Farnese held out her coat, and placed it gently over his shoulders. Serpico’s eyes widened and his mouth twitched, but they were gone as soon she noticed them.

“Lady Farnese,” his voice came out almost a whine. “This is embarrassing, I’m the one who should take care of you.”

Farnese smiled. “You don’t have to do that anymore.” Saying that was more painful than she had imagined. She still wanted him to take care of her. It was childish and ridiculous and selfish but she wanted it, always. “Serpico… you must know that what happened between me and Roderick, it’s… perhaps you took the wrong idea.” She despised how low and shaky her voice came, how ashamed. Why was she trying to give him explanations even when he assured she owed him none? Why did she feel the _need_ to give an explanation?

“My duty is to protect you, Lady Farnese, and I saw you were in no danger.” Serpico said.

This embarrassed her, and she wanted to counter his answer with more elaboration, but she ended up sighing with a mix of surrender and exhaustion. “Can I sit beside you?” she asked him, and he replied with a solemn nod. Farnese turned and used her arms to push herself up.

Serpico was staring ahead, at something she couldn’t see, something far and perhaps nonexistent. She noted how his face sported a few thin scars, and that his ear was slashed a bit, and that his hair had become long enough to caress his shoulders.

“You need a haircut.” She commented, and Serpico turned his head and gave her an awkward smile.

“So it seems. Since the beginning of the journey we hadn’t much time for grooming and vanity.” He said. “I’ll cut it tomorrow.”

“I can cut it for you now.” She blurted out before she could stop herself, but Serpico didn’t seem to make much of it.

The image of Casca’s messy and jotting hair flashed in his mind. “I’m afraid your credentials in these matters are up to question, Lady Farnese.”

She chuckled. “You’ll just have to let me try, then.”

Serpico let a smile graze his face, and he regarded her with such warmth, such tenderness that she was tempted to gather him in her arms and tell him how important he is, how needed he is, how vital, but in the end, she settled for a reciprocated smile, and unclasped her dagger, instructing him to sit cross legged on the deck while she balanced behind him on her knees.

Farnese took the dagger in her hand, and in the other, she held a lock of blond hair. Taking a breath, she cleaved through it, cutting a sizable length of it and letting it gather on the deck. She liked it when his hair was short on the back and long on the front; it accentuated his long, fair neck and made his shoulders appear wider.

“Lady Farnese.” Serpico spoke, his voice low but measured. Farnese stopped her work. “I wish to stay.” Her heart skipped a beat. “Beside the pond you said that I could leave if I wanted, and it’s true, I could leave, but I want to stay.”

Farnese smiled, and something in her told her that Serpico could sense how glad she was. “We have changed so much, haven’t we?” she said, taking another lock of hair and seizing it before running her silver blade in it. “Three years ago if someone had told us that we’ll be on a journey with the Black Swordsman I would have accused them of heresy.” Farnese let out a bemused chuckle. “And me, a witch! I would have burned them, but look at us.” She put down her dagger, and turned around to see her handiwork.

Serpico’s face was glowing. It was glowing, under a moon light so soft and gentle, and it brought out all these emotions within her, so she couldn’t look at it. She couldn’t look at him when he appeared like that. However, she took his hand, resting limply on his thigh, and clasped it between hers, and yet she couldn’t look at him. “We have become different people, but sometimes I fear that it’s driving us apart, and it scares me.” She swallowed. “I… I don’t want to lose you, Serpico. You, of all people, I cannot. I wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Farnese couldn’t help the trembling in her voice. “I know… I know that I have been awful to you, I have been cruel, unbearable and evil sometimes, and I don’t want to give excuses, I just want you to know that I regret everything I’ve ever done, all my misdeeds, and by all that is sacred, I’m trying to atone, every day, I’m trying I swear, and I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, for everything I’ve ever done, to you, to others…” She squeezed his hand with shaky resolve. “I cannot bear to know that you hate me, not you.”

Serpico covered her hands with his, and his cool fingers rested on her hot skin. She raised her head to meet his. “I don’t hate you. I never did.”

She searched his eyes for truth, and she found it. She found more than truth, too; loyalty, care, empathy, and most of all, love. Not love in a vague sense of duty, but pure love, strong and unconditional, the sort that invades the soil with its roots but never peaks it head above ground.

“Remember,” Serpico continued. “I have promised that you’re my only Master, forever.”

“Then I release you of that promise, Serpico.” Farnese replied, clutching his hand. “That is my last command as your Master.” She smiled at him, hoping to convey all that is in her heart. “I no longer want that kind of thing between us.” She held his hand, pressing it to her heart. “I wouldn’t want this journey without you, and it can never be complete if we don’t both reach the end with transformed hearts, and perhaps, with better understanding, of the world, and of each other.”

Serpico mimicked the gesture, taking her hand and placing it over his heart. “I’m proud of you.”

That was all she needed to throw herself at him and wrap her arms around his body. She feared that he was going to push her away, but was pleasantly surprised when he in turn circled her with his strong arms and buried his face in her hair.

It would take a long time for them to fully know, and fully understand, but in that tender moment under the moon light, they knew they were on the right step, on a path they could walk together.


End file.
